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“I’m going to keep trying my luck on the slots,” Rebecca answers.
Brittany hesitates, glancing between us. I’d bet anything she doesn’t know which of us she should choose to be with for the next few hours.
“What do you want to do, Brittany?” I ask. I don’t care either way. Actually, that’s a lie. I’m hoping she’ll choose Rebecca.
“I don’t know yet,” she answers.
“I think you should try to win your money back,” Rebecca says.
“I think so too,” I add.
She narrows her eyes at me, but I don’t know why. She should be with Rebecca. Not because I’m hiding anything, but because Las Vegas is her number one place to visit, and she needs to truly experience it. She can’t do that in the hotel room with me.
“Then it’s settled,” Rebecca declares.
“All right. Y’all have fun.” I kiss Brittany’s forehead and make my escape. God, I can’t wait to be back home. This was a terrible time to do a med change because they obviously haven’t kicked in. What more am I supposed to do to balance myself out?
I can’t correct my brain. I can’t make myself feel better. I can’t do a damn thing except trudge through it and hope I eventually come out on the other side. That’s what I hate about depression. The whole fucking thing is out of my control—out of anyone’s control. I should be able to feel happy when I want to be happy, damn it. I should be able to laugh when my girlfriend says something funny and it be genuine. I should be able to travel and explore with her. I should be able to sleep when I’m tired.
But, no.
All I can do is take deep breaths, try to sleep, eat, take my pills, and hold on. Hope like hell that I survive it. Fight it every damn moment of every damn day until things start to look up. Hope I survive rock bottom. Hope I don’t bring Brittany down with me. Hope I don’t turn into my mother because my father wouldn’t be able to handle it.
I’m so tired of everything.
So, so tired in every way possible.
My phone buzzes with a text, and I pick it up.
Brittany: Are you sure you don’t want me to come up and keep you company?
Me: I’m sure. Have fun; I’ll be fine.
Sometimes, I do want her with me. Not today, though. After having no luck sleeping, I step into the shower and close my eyes as I stand underneath the hot water. Maybe this will help me relax.
“Just let me have five minutes to go check on him,” I beg Rebecca when Trace ignores my third text.
“He’s probably sleeping, Brittany.”
“We won’t know until I go check. Five minutes and then I’ll be back down here and I’ll tip the waitress for you when she brings you another drink.”
“Fine,” she sighs. “You owe me five bucks if he’s sleeping.”
I nod and hurry to the elevators. There’s no way I can relax until I check on him. For some reason, I feel like I need to see him right this very second. I slip my key card into the slot and open the door. The shower is running, giving me some relief.
“Trace?” My anxiety notches higher when he doesn’t respond. I tentatively open the door, am ambushed by steam, and step inside. “Trace?” I ask again, but there’s still nothing. I push the curtain aside to see him sitting in the tub, his head against the tile, and he’s fast asleep. How in the hell is this 6’5” man managing to sleep in this hard, small tub? How do you even fall asleep in the shower? I wonder how long he’s been in here. Probably not too terribly long since the water is still hot.
I turn off the water, grab a towel, and shake his shoulder. “Trace, babe, wake up.” He doesn’t even flutter his eyes, and for a moment, I wonder if he took his pills early. “Trace,” I say louder, slapping his face a little.
He startles awake. “Fucking hell,” he mutters as he stands, stepping out of the shower.
I hand him the towel and say, “I’m glad I came to check on you. Let’s get you changed and into bed where you should be sleeping.”
“Yeah, I’m tired,” he grumbles. Once he finishes drying off, I hand him his clothes. He quickly dresses and grabs his neck. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to check on you,” I repeat. He nods. I take his hand and lead him to the bed, watching as he settles in and gets comfortable. “I guess I’ll go now.” I really hate to leave him, even if he does fall asleep. This is not my Trace.
His eyes are red, his expression lacks emotion, and he just seems like he needs someone to take care of him. He obviously doesn’t have it together.
